Page 41 of Duskbound (Esprithean Trilogy #2)

CHAPTER FORTY

Maps of Riftdremar were sprawled across a table in the archives, their edges curling from age. I traced the faded lines with my finger, trying to memorize every detail, every path that might lead us to what we needed.

"Here." Raven tapped a spot near the Western border. "Old mining tunnels."

I leaned closer, studying the careful notations around the area. "You think they were harvesting the arcanite there?"

"The geological markers match." He shuffled through some loose papers. "And look at this—the Guard kept these sections heavily fortified, even after mining operations officially ceased."

"Why protect empty mines?"

A slight smile played at his lips. "Exactly."

We worked in comfortable silence for a while; the only sound was the rustling of parchment and the scratch of Raven's pen as he made notes. I'd grown to appreciate these quiet moments with him. His steady presence, his careful attention to detail.

"I lived in Draxon for a while, you know." His voice was gentle, still focused on his notes. "I worked as a carrier. We maintained communication channels across the Southeastern territory."

I set down the map I'd been studying.

"Things changed slowly at first," he continued. "So slowly you almost didn't notice. Messages started getting intercepted. Certain communications were... altered." His pen stilled against the parchment. "Then people began disappearing. Other communicators. Merchants. Anyone who spoke against the changes happening in the region."

"When did you leave?"

"After the network collapsed." He looked up, and something in his expression seemed haunted. "But I should have left sooner. Should have seen what was really happening. The signs were there, in the fear that started creeping into people's eyes, in the way they'd hurry inside when his men passed by." He shook his head. "Sometimes I dream about the ones who vanished. Wonder if I could have warned them somehow."

"You couldn't have known," I said quietly.

"Neither could you." His response was gentle but firm, and I realized this was why he was telling me now. Not to burden me with his past, but to tell me I wasn't alone in what I'd survived.

We returned to our work, the silence now comfortable in a different way. Raven's pen scratched against parchment as he made more notes about the mining tunnels. I was studying a detailed section of the Eastern border when he suddenly stopped writing.

"Oh, and nobody knows about—" He trailed off as footsteps echoed through the archives.

"No. Not yet." I kept my voice low as Raven slid two compacts across the table. I barely had time to slip them into my pocket before the doors burst open.

Three Sentinels strode toward us, their expressions grim beneath their darkened eyes .

"We will be escorting you to General Urkin's office immediately."

My stomach dropped.

Fuck. We're too late.

"For what purpose?" Raven's casual demeanor had vanished, replaced by something sharper.

They ignored him completely, rough hands grabbing my arms as I stood. For a moment, I considered reaching for my web, for my shadows—anything to break their grip.

"Your accomplice is already waiting."

Aether.

I let them lead me into the empty street towards the Citadel, through its winding corridors, their fingers digging into my arms with unnecessary force. Even from a distance, Urkin's voice carried through the stone walls, each word dripping with fury.

The door opened, and suddenly I was falling, shoved forward with enough force to send me sprawling across the floor. Before I could even catch my breath, there was a blur of movement and a sickening crack.

Aether had the Sentinel pinned against the wall, his hand locked around the man's throat. The Sentinel's eyes rolled back as he slumped, unconscious. The other guard retreated instantly, pulling the door closed behind him.

"Have you gone mad?" Urkin's voice boomed through the room.

"Have you?" Aether's earlier rage had vanished, replaced by something colder, more controlled. His face was a mask of perfect neutrality as he turned from the unconscious Sentinel and offered me a hand. The gesture sent warmth coursing through me as I let him pull me up, my hand lingering a beat too long in his.

"You murdered a Lord of Umbrathia." Urkin slammed his fist on the desk. "Do you have any idea what you've done? The entire realm will burn for this. "

"We found something," I said, straightening my clothes. "If you'd just listen?—"

"Listen?" He let out a bitter laugh. "To more of your schemes? Your theories ? While Draxon's forces gather at our borders?"

"We're going about this war in the wrong way—" I started, but he cut me off.

"We will continue as we have been doing. It's the only way to end this war." His voice cracked with an emotion I hadn't heard from him before. "I lost my son to these monsters. Watched him die defending our realm from Sídhe. And now you want me to consider another way?" He slammed his fist on the desk again. "There is no other way."

Understanding washed over me. Finally, I saw the man beneath the General's mask—a father whose grief had hardened into something unbreakable.

"We can restore the essence," Aether said quietly. "Without destroying everything in the process."

"There is no other way." Urkin's voice had lost its edge, replaced by something hollow. "I won't let his sacrifice be for nothing."

"Then you'll doom us all." Aether's words carried a weight that made the air feel heavy.

"Listen to what we found," I pressed, stepping closer to his desk. "The King of Sídhe. He's a siphon."

"A what?" Urkin's attention snapped to me.

"Someone who can redirect essence itself," Aether explained, his voice steady. "Pull it from one place and channel it to another. The arcanite towers aren't draining the essence from Umbrathia—they're storing it."

"Even if what you're saying is true," Urkin's voice was tight, "how does this change anything? The towers still need to be destroyed."

"No," Aether stepped forward. "If we destroy them, all that stored essence will be lost forever. The realm will never recover. "

"We have a plan," I added quickly. "A way to potentially restore what's been taken. But we need time?—"

"While Draxon's forces gather?" He shook his head. "Your theories about siphons and stolen essence don't change the fact that you've started a war we can't afford to fight."

I exchanged a glance with Aether. "If war comes to Ravenfell, then we need to be as strong as possible to face the Damphyre." I paused before continuing. "We need our own arcanite. We need to go to Riftdremar."

Urkin went still. "Riftdremar was destroyed."

"The surface, yes," Aether said. "But the mining tunnels could still be intact. And if there's any arcanite left..."

"You want to walk into a wasteland on the chance that something survived the burning?" Urkin's laugh was hollow. "For what purpose?"

I stepped closer to his desk, keeping my voice low. "Because I can create essence. Not channel it from the land like a tether, but generate it within myself. If we can find arcanite, I might be able to imbue it. Start replacing what's been stolen."

"You've lost your mind." But there was something else in Urkin's voice now—a crack in his certainty. "Even if you could find arcanite, even if you could somehow restore essence to it, it wouldn't be enough. Not against what we're facing."

"It's a start," Aether said.

For a moment, Urkin looked down, face strained as though we could physically see him coming to terms with what we offered. But just as that realization pulled at his features, he simply looked up.

"I can't allow any of you to leave while Draxon's forces mobilize."

I felt Aether's attention on me now, and I turned to look at him. Something had changed in his expression. We locked eyes for a few seconds, as if he was making a decision, something I wasn't aware of. Finally, his gaze left mine, and he faced Urkin once more.

"I'm afraid you can't command her." Aether's voice carried an edge. "Not anymore."

Urkin's jaw tightened. "She's a member of my unit, under my direct authority?—"

Aether took a step forward. "Tell me, when was the last time Tryggar chose a rider?"

Urkin's face twisted in exasperation. "What does that have to do with?—"

"Nearly half a century, not since him ," Aether continued, his voice growing harder. "And now, after decades of refusing every soldier who approached, he chooses her."

Something in Urkin's expression shifted.

"Her power alone should have been our first clue." Aether's eyes narrowed. "A Duskbound, appearing from across the rip. When that gift hasn't manifested outside one bloodline for over a century."

My heart thundered in my chest. What was he doing?

"Her appearance is so strikingly different from ours, the white hair, the opalescent eyes, yet she shares our darkened features, our perpetual shadows."

"Make your point, Aether. I'm beginning to lose my patience," Urkin muttered.

“The Void showed Fia a couple, an Aossí and a Kalfar right before they were engulfed in flames—flames that would come to destroy Riftdremar. I believe those to be her parents."

Urkin’s eyes sliced through the air in my direction, so quickly it made my heart jump.

"At first, I thought it was just coincidence." Aether's attention fell to the floor. "That her birth in Riftdremar was simply the result of some forbidden affair between realms. An Umbra soldier who'd crossed the rip and fallen for an Aossí woman. "

Urkin had gone very still.

"We were together that day," Aether's voice dropped dangerously low. "When Riftdremar burned. When he refused to leave. The public might believe he died of illness, but we know the truth, don't we?"

"That's enough." Urkin's voice shook.

"I returned to the archives to take another look at reports from that time. Nine months before her birth, he filed notice that he'd be splitting his time between the realms." Aether's golden eyes burned. "Convenient timing, wouldn't you say?"

Then he turned to me, and something in his expression confused me more than his words. "And then there's the name she spoke last night."

My heart stopped.

"The royal family has followed the same tradition for centuries," he continued, "every heir's name, a testament to the parent with shadows in their blood." His eyes locked onto mine. "There's a reason you dreamed of this family, Fia."

Urkin's attention shot between Aether and me, coming to some realization that I hadn't yet put together. "It couldn't be…" he stammered over his words as he rounded the desk, taking a few steps in my direction, his eyes alive with questions.

"It's because you belong to it," Aether said, a look of wonder spreading across his face. "Your father was Prince Andrial Valtyr, son of Andrid, our ruling Queen."

Andrial?

The name echoed through my mind like a bell toll, ringing so loudly that the world seemed to tilt beneath my feet.

"You've never been simply Fia Riftborne ."

I grabbed the back of the chair, my knees threatening to give out as the revelation washed over me. My eyes traced patterns on the floor, unable to process what he was saying. What it meant. Everything I thought I knew about myself, about my past, began to crack and reshape itself.

Slowly, I lifted my head to meet Aether's gaze, but he was already turning back to Urkin.

"So you tell the Council. You tell them that what Valkan did was an act of war. You tell them that he captured and fed from the heir to the throne of Umbrathia."